Return to the life I wanted to live
by DEMOMEMOMAN
Summary: Sparrow makes her choice at the Spire. But was it the choice she had in mind?  Follows SParrow after The Spire and her life, as she makes it, after she is free to make her own choices in her life.
1. Anything easy has it's cost

**This is my first Fable 2 Fanfiction so be gentle.  
Please read and review, even if YOU HATED IT. Giv me a reason and some flames and I will try my best to fix it.**

-**Chapter 1:  
**_"Anything easy has it's cost"_**  
**

Out of her left eye shone the golden glow of vengence. Her hand shook violently with anger, desperatly clutching her pistol, and even as Lucien continued to babble about his twisted brave new world she couldn't hear him, for the pounding of blood in her ears had blocked all sounds but her hammering heart beat. How could he? Even now staring at death...how could he tell her how wrong she was? He was the one that killed her precious sister, her only family, for his own selfish reasons. He had killed so many innocent people just for one wish, for that one thing. Not even one single life could be disregarded. His wish had caused quite a death toll.

Gritting her teeth in fury, she squeezed the trigger and felt the familiar push of the gun in her hands. As if in slow motion, she noticed something out of the corner of her uncovered eye she slowly turned her head to the right to see Reaver had pulled out his gun at the same time to shoot Lucien. His face twisted from one of cocky smugness to confusion when Maggie's bullet had pierced the shriveled madman's skin with the sickening crunch of broken bone and ripped tissue, instead of his own. Lucien gripped his chest and stumbled back. As he opened his mouth to say something more his footing slipped and he fell backwards, a long shout of anguish was all that escaped his lips as he dissapeared to the darkness below, never to return.

She had done it, Magdaline Sparrow, Maggie, the Gunslinger, the Hero of Albion...had just finished her task of avenging her sister, her faithful dog and that nice man she had met at the spire, they had all been put to rest. Reaver however was less than impressed. His focus was now on his beautiful Dragon stomper .48.  
"I-I...I missed? I never miss.." His sentence was a mere whisper of astonishment. His world was shattered...maybe no one had noticed? Looking up he saw that Maggie was looking at him as she placed her Red Dragon back in it's holster at her hip, she had noticed. He held up his gun and aimed it at her with a quirk of his eyebrow, his mischevious, devious eyebrow. Her leather gloved hand was like a crack of a whip as it sped to the handle of her pistol. There was a loud click that reverberated off of the tall stone walls and then dead silence.  
A smirk crept across Maggie's face; he was shooting blanks. There was shuffling as Hammer and Garth began to pick themselves up off the floor. Reaver quickly realized what happened; it wasn't his fault, it was the bullets. Shooting into the air again puffs of smoke disappeared from the tip of his weapon and vanished into nothing.  
"And here I was worried that my golden reputation had been tarnished, I stand corrected," he glowed with renewed pride and placed his weapon into it's own, snug holster. Rolling her eyes, Maggie rested her left hand on her master Katana, she couldn't stand him. At times he was funny but it only took that one step over the line for him to get annoying and she had passed that line a long, long, LONG time ago.  
"I'm going to make a mental note to kill that blacksmith when I see him.." He nodded to assure his claim and brushed a strand of hair from his face in a very pompous, look at me, way.  
"Lucien's...dead.." Hammer whispered as she brushed the fog from her thoughts.  
"Luckily, I thought he'd never shut up.." Reaver looked down into the abyss but all that greeted his deep green eyes was pure darkness.  
Garth looked over at Maggie and gestured to the center of the structure they stood on and spoke.  
"What happens now?"  
Suddenly Theresa appeared in the soft glow of white light. Her omnipresent voice seemed to ring with supreme clarity.  
"Now, our Hero gets one wish...the Spire is ready to grant you anything you desire." She paused and held out her hand to Maggie who was itching her right eye under her eyepatch.  
"Take my hand."  
At that moment she could swear she heard Rose's voice.  
_"It's okay little sparrow...don't be afraid..."  
_Those same words she had spoken before she had died, Maggie was as uneasy as she had been then. Hesitantly, she reached out to touch Theresa's hand and she was suddenly enveloped in white light and was standing in what seemed to be a soft, pure purgatory. She stood across from her mentor, her mother , her savior and looked around the white nothingness.

So, she had a choice. A choice of what? The leather of her gloves was cold as she cradled her chin in thought.

"What are my 'choices'?" she asked, shifting her weight, her taloned, gold plated armored boots scraping the floor. Theresa folded her hands in her lap and rocked back on her heels.

"You have three. The first one is the path of sacrifice. You can save everyone who has died by Lucien's hand... for a price."

"That price being...?" she waved her hand lazily, encouraging her to continue.

"You will never see your faithful companion ever again."

"Continue."

"Also, the only thing that will be your reward is the gratitude of Albion..."  
The multicolored rainbow of beads in her bright red hair jingled and clinked as she shook her head.  
"That... doesn't rub me the right way.." She gestured for Theresa to go on with the other choices as she tilted her hips to shift her weight again, an unconscious gesture that spoke of her impatience.  
Theresa disliked to be interrupted but changed her subject anyways.  
"Then there is the choice of love..." Maggie intruded again with a scoff, she had no one in her life that she loved. People loved her, lots of people, hordes even. She hated them, their adoring faces and poor attempts at courtship. She especially hated they way they kept pestering her about marriage, people she didn't even know would come up to her and say "wouldn't our fingers look better with rings on them?". The nerve! She never gave them the time of day. The only thing she remotely loved or had any feelings for...was her dog. Baskerville had been there for her when no one else had. He had licked her face when she had cried as a child and when she had flown from the nest he had protected her from attack. Even to the end he had jumpped at Lucien for her sake.  
"Your furry companion will be restored to you" Theresa continued. "But this comes at another high price." Rolling her eyes, Maggie puffed out another breath. Was there a wish that didn't come with strings attached?  
"All of Albions lost souls will not be brought back to life...and you will not gain the adoration of Albions people."  
"And the last choice?"  
"The choice of Wealth. All the money you could possibly spend." Maggie waited for the clause, the condition.  
"But, your dog and most of the population of Albion will not be around to witness your new found affluence and you will be feared by Albions people."  
There was a deafening silence that cut through the air after she spoke. Her surroundings were charged with anticipation as she closed her eyes in thought. Nibbling on her bottom lip for a moment, she realised something, what about Rose?  
"I wish to bring Rose back."  
Theresa tilted her head to the side, out of everything she had predicted in her life this answer was surprisingly unexpected.  
"Rose? You'd give up everything to bring her back?"  
Maggie exploded in a fit of rage that had been building for years.

"Of course! My whole life has been building up to this moment! I've wanted nothing more than to bring her back ever since I saw her die in front of me! Ever since I felt that bullet shoot through my chest! Ever since I fell out of that window!" she screamed, her voice made all the more intense by her rage and sadness.  
"Hero," Theresa used a soothing tone. " There are some souls that cannot be brought back. Your sister has been dead for a long time and her soul is now-"  
"NO! I will not accept this! I want her back! Do you hear me? I don't care about the rest of Albion! I want my sister!"  
"Your sisters soul cannot be brought back, there are rules that just cannot be broken."  
"Rules!" She whipped her hand out to smack the cards that floated in front of her away from her sight. They tumbled out of her vision and gently fluttered to the floor.  
"Why do we have to be bound by frivolous rules! Are we as people slaves? Can we never be truly free!" Her voice took on a desperate tone and her throat was getting raspy with anger.  
"The only person I know who isn't remotely bounded by rules is.." she paused, hating herself for what she was about to say. "is...Reaver!" Even though she must have been on a completely different plane than him at the moment, she swore she could hear his smile and some narcissistic ramblings.  
Theresa shook her head. "My dear, he is bound by the shadow court. Their rules determine his life, for if he doesn't obey them, by offering a sacrifice, then he is doomed to die."  
Tears welled up in Maggie's eyes as she dropped to her knees, but wasn't he free? To steal? to lie? to lust? To kill? To feel the ocean breeze on his face? To watch the sun set? She felt a tear drop from her golden yellow eyes, eyes that had been dry for so long that she had almost forgotten the feeling of tears against her red cheeks. How they coldly slid down her skin then lept into the air to meet a harsh fate on the ground below.  
"So I can never see her again? I can never have my sister back..." More tears fell then the dam broke and she began to hiccough and sob. Rose had been taken so early in life, too soon. She yearned to hear her soothing voice, to feel her fingers brush against her hair as she tried to get to sleep and to have her make jokes and laugh in the cold moonlight. But now, she could never get to see her sister again in that magical world of light and happiness. Not even for a proper goodbye.  
She opened her eyes as her sobs died and she had calmed. Infront of her was the card of the sacrifice. How many people felt like her? How many people missed their loved ones? They all had been innocent and all been killed unnessecarily. There was a long silent pause that seemed to stretch out for eternity, like everything in the spire it seemed timeless.  
"I choose...the sacrifice..." She whispered, her hand reaching out to grab the card. She crushed it in her fist with all her might. This was what she had chosen. The rules had kept their shackles on her and were satisfied.  
Under her she felt the heartbeat of the spire stop. She held her breath in response, what was happening? The air was charged with energy and it exploded with such force that she felt the base of it in her body. It knocked the wind out of her and for a moment she thought she was dead. When air rushed back into her lungs she had been proven wrong and the soft beat of the spire crept into her bones again. When the power around her faded she slowly raised to her feet and brushed the water from her face with her puffy, white sleeve. Placing her eye patch back on her right eye she breathed out a slow breath, what now?  
"Your wish is granted. Loved ones are returning to their homes confused but unscathed. You have chosen selflessly.." At that moment they appeared back with the others. Hammer, Garth, and Reaver stood in their original positions and stared at Maggie when she appeared before them.  
"I can't beleive you did that." Hammers voice was the first one to speak up. Maggie looked over to her with a blank stare, she couldn't beleive it either.  
"I mean if I had that choice between my father and those people...I...I don't know" Hammer was confused with herself as the other Hero's saw the look of agony on her face.  
"We heard everything,you've chosen...well Hero" Garth broke the slience and nodded his head in approval. Maggie shook her head, her choice would probably haunt her for the rest of her days. A scoff and a prude chuckle made her glare to her right.  
"Yes yes yes yes, this is all well and good but what about me? What do I get? Cash would be nice."  
Maggie was about to tell him he'd get a year supply of her foot up his ass but Theresa spoke first.  
"That depends on you. I can send you anywhere in the world from here."  
Without a second more Garth spoke up.  
"I wish to go home, to Samarkand."  
Reavers ears perked up with interest.  
"Oh! I've never been to Samarkand..." His mind wondered through it's perverted garden of possibilities.  
"Hot nights, exotic substances and..." Reaver paused as he ran his tongue over his lips. "Uninhibited people."  
Garth was appauled, his homeland was nothing of the sort.  
"It's nothing like that"  
"Oh don't worry I'll find the interesting bits..." His smirk was a guarantee of his claim.  
"Your not seriously going with him are you? What about the shadow court?" Maggie placed her hands on her hips, her tone wasn't one of worry but more of a taunt.  
"Don't worry I'll come back Maggie dearest. You can count on that."  
"I look forward to it" Her voice was a just begging for a fight as she sneered at him.  
"Well I can't thank you enough for dragging me into this mess Maggie dear...I know I'll see you again" He gestured with his hands as sarcasim dripped from his every word. He knew he would come back, she was far too interesting. The way she got mad when he called her dear or when she constantly swore and fought with him made it all to easy to tease her.  
"Tatty-bye Hero, maybe when I come back you'll have earned the right to be called Gunslinger" He snickered. Maggie pulled out her gun but he had already dissapeared into nothingness.  
"I'm glad to have met you Maggie," Garth smiled as she placed her unsatisfied gun back in it's resting place.  
A ghost of a smile crept over her face as she looked over at him.  
"I'm sure our paths will cross again." She hoped so, he was great in battle.  
As Garth dissapeared Maggie's eyes turned to Hammer. Her eyes were kind and she gave Maggie a large, dumb smile.  
"I'm glad to have met you Maggie...even though.." She let out a slow sigh.  
"I know why those hollow men attacked us in the wellspring. You brought them in there-"  
"WHHHAAAT?" Maggies blunt and rude outburst made Hammer frown, she knew that would happen.  
"How dare you! HOW DARE YOU! I saved your life in that cave and this is the thanks I get? The hollow men would have been there even if a defenseless monk went in with you. Do you think blaming me for something like that has anything to do with anything?" her brow was furrowed with anger and Hammer opened her mouth to object but was quickly shot down again.  
"Even if there had been no hollow men at all in that wellspring your father still would have died Hammer," Maggies words cut the cold air like a knife. The whole time Theresa was watching benevolently, her hands were folded in front of her, it wasn't her job to intervene with anybody's problems anymore.  
"Your father was a smart man to have chosen me to come with you... because if he hadn't you'd have been dead before you had even finished your journey." Hammer rubbed her right arm thoughtfully as if to comfort herself.  
"Sometimes I wish I had died in that cave so I could have been spared the sight of his death..."  
"But then Oakfield would have been in despair because the Golden Acorn would have died... could you really have sacrificed all those peoples happiness if you knew that? Could you really have gone against your father's wishes? Not only that, but now your father and my family is at peace now..." Maggie took a languid, unsteady breath. "Let the dead be at peace."  
Hammer thought about it some more and after a few long moments a small smile began to form on her face.  
"You know, I've decided. I want to train with the warrior monks in the north. They beleive if you are to prevent violence you muct first understand it, control it." she said, her eyes moving from Maggie to Theresa's hooded face.  
"I've spent my whole life trying to run from death and fighting, but I want to grow stronger so that I won't have to run. I won't be scared," out of the corner of Hammer's eye she took her last look at Maggie.  
"I'm glad to have met you, you were the best friend I ever had, even though you did alot of bad things," and as Hammer disappeared Maggie was sure that she saw her burst into tears. Hammer had been annoying at times, constantly made fun of her, so called, "tiny-pop-gun", drank so much that she'd have to drag the behemoth to an inn for the night, and basically got her in so much trouble she couldn't stand it. Through all of the trouble she had from her, she had still managed to worm her way into her heart, reserving herself a place. She would miss sitting in a bar with her, waving around her pistol and finally dragging her heavy, teddy bear friend to bed where she'd wake up to a whole mess of trouble that she and Hammer would be chased, laughing, out of town for.  
The cold and overwhelming emptiness of the Spire closed in on her, making Maggie more aware of her loss and the _loneliness_. Her eyes locked on to Theresa, who was smiling strangely.  
"Albion is yours to explore now, hero," something inside her perked up. The world... was hers? Her mind processed the idea. Her _adoring _fans would follow her like lambs, if she ever wanted them to, and they would let her do whatever she pleased with little consequence. Reaver would have some objections to that but he would eventually get accustomed to the idea. Who knows? Maybe she'd take over his house and become the next pirate king? She didn't have anything better to do.  
"But the spire.." Theresa paused and something in her voice made Maggie shiver. It was cold and without any human emotion, something very unlike her. An odd air floated around them like fresh morning mist and Maggie was suddenly on her toes.  
"Is mine", the words hit her like bricks. Had Theresa just used her to get the spire? Was she going to use it to wish for something horrible?  
"Begone."  
As Maggie tried to pull out her gun she was gone in a whirl of blue and light. She found herself back on the Oakfeild dock, looking out to the spire.  
That was it.  
She felt the end of her journey and as she looked out for what seemed like hours at the forboding structure she let out a thick breath of hot air. When she finally turned her back to it to look up at the tall shimmering glow of the Oak of light infront of her she thought to herself, what now? She patted her hip to call her dog to follow as she walked forward but froze as she realised her dog wasn't with her, he was dead. Frowning at the sudden realisation, she cursed her self and moved up the dirt path only to be cut off by what seemed to be a postal worker on a large, black stallion.  
"Can I help you?" Her tone was one of annoyance, if it was a purposal she'd jump up on that stupid thing and punch him in the face right there. Right now she WAS NOT in the mood.  
"Miss this is a letter from the people of Albion, I've been looking all over for you" He smiled and handed her a peice of parchment. Taking it hesitantly she brushed her leather fingers against his and felt a jolt of heat. She had been shocked by the reality of the moment, she was alive again, she was alone and now what was this letter for? Were the people of Albion sick of her?  
Opening it, she nodded and closed it carefully, placing it in her holster snugly beside her gun.  
"Do you have room on that thing for two?"


	2. The first step you take is the longest

**A little shorter this time. Hope fully I'll get the last chapter done sometime. I hope you all enjoy this one.**

-

Chapter 2:  
_"The first step you take is your longest stride"_

Standing in the pale moonlit streets of Bowerstone she saw it. Falling into her vision like a mammoth looming shadow in front of her, she walked down a fermilliar street in old town. He had said it would be there, waiting for her. Behind it the moon shone coldly as the winter began to fall on Bowerstone. Castle Fairfax floated, ghostly and dark in the distance. That castle, the symbol of all the evil and horror in her past now shed, a snakes skin, discarded and forgotten. The city seemed to escape from the ice outside, huddling into itself like a abandoned child on the street. Every chimney spewed forth smoke into the crisp air that nipped, an annoyed puppy, at Maggie's exposed face. As she looked to the houses at her sides every window danced with the orange figures of flame with ghostly black shadows doing their buisness within. Every inhabitant of the town had either escaped to the confines of their warm houses or to some sort of shelter, leaving the wide, cobbled streets completely empty. Her hesitated steps reverberated off the stone walls, they echoed back to her how truly alone she was, mocking her. She finally got to the statue and, for a moment, blinked in surprise. The sillouette betrayed the statues detail on closer inspection. Wondering how long it had taken to acually create this statue, she placed a gloved hand to it's surface, which was icy to the touch. Her visage wasn't one of heroic nobility, tom-foolery, or rough attitude, the sculptor had carved her sitting crosslegged with her face in one of her hands, her elbow resting on her leg. Baskerville laid at her side and rested his head happily on her left thigh. It was her face that captured her interest the most. It wasn't blank or unfeeling, it was a look of thoughfullness. It was the look that often wondered across her face thinking about something dirty or wondering how to terrorize the town crier once more, a look that had spread over her face when she had tripped Reaver in the passage behind his home, that had sprang forth when she was playing drinking games with hammer, The defiant look she had given the cammendant. This face was her and not the mask she had been wearing all her life. All the time when she had been in front of the people of Albion she tried her best to put on a mask, mostly failing and resorting to some sort of pout or scowl. Her reputoir of them was extensive, the happy scowl, the angery scowl, the unamused snort, a myriad of faces. But now she'd be shown how she was, she was free. Free from the expectations, the rules, the model of a hero. She breathed in a icy breath that cleared her lungs as if she had eaten a strong peppermint. Now was the final matter of her friend's funeral...

He was cold, frightfully so. His body caught flies and she knelt beside his corpse, unaware of them. She reached out a shakey hand to place it to his fur, so corse and different from the animal she knew and loved, was it even the same creature? She saw his tounge escaping from his sharp jaws, bloodied drool pooling around them as she stroked his fur.  
"I wish I could have saved you, you died so needlessly..." she whispered, laying her head on his chest, which was unmoving. Lifting her head up after a while she noted that the sun was begining to rise. Morning was, regretably, Baskervilles favorite time. However, Maggie had never really been a morning person, though she always dragged herself out of bed at 9 am. It seemed fitting that she lay him to rest in a happier time. Her spade in hand she carried his body down to the base of the rocks, laying him gently on the ground. She began to dig, slowly, each sharp sound of her shovel hitting dirt then the dull thud of it against the grass was her remembering every face, every adventure, every corpse. When she was done and the sun was in it's morning crawl she had finished the grave. Wearily resting, she looked over to the trail for a moment. People came and went on their journey's, their own adventures. One stopped and looked at her, waving for a breif moment before being called by another traveller. She supposed people weren't all that bad, sometimes. Reinvigorated from her short repose she picked up her friend as if he was a newborn child, placing him into his earthy crib.  
"Good night Baskerville, reap your rewards in heaven."  
Every mound of dirt that she filled the hole with was a memory, a corpse, a face. She'd bury all her regrets and sadness with her best friend, never to be unearthed.


End file.
